


More than words

by oceansapart



Category: Suits (TV)
Genre: F/M, Light Angst
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-08-15
Updated: 2016-08-14
Packaged: 2018-08-08 19:50:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,645
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7770799
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/oceansapart/pseuds/oceansapart
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>#DonnaPaulsenDeservesBetter</p><p>She's chosen to believe that everything she has done is because it's what needed to be done. She won't sit wallowing like some passing afternoon, like the endless days that go away. She's chosen where to be, sometimes misplaced energy, but as she types on her computer, clinging to her desk, things Harvey needs to be done, she alternates it with mails and messages to people she knows. Looking for a solution to save the building where she felt alive outside Pearson Specter Litt's walls.</p>
            </blockquote>





	More than words

 

 _Ophelia would rise if it was her song and say these words_  
_"Summer comes with its color all to take your breath away_  
_Winter turns all the summer's love to gray"_

Louder than Hope by Iron and Wine

 

 

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

 

Donna's chest constrict as she enters the building. There's dust covering up almost everything, as if it was abandoned for way longer than a few months. Her fingers lightly touch the fabric of the chairs, and she stands still near the stage. The dim light doesn't help to make the place look less somber than it is. Where before, maroon, brown and gold shined, velvet and wood are now opaque. It's funny how this place is mirroring her life. Once there were dreams and hopes, now completely overcome by routine and devoid of the little things that made her feel alive.

 

 

She doesn't get it, how could she have missed the messages letting her know of the death of the little theater's owner. How she could ignored her theater company's needs, her own needs. But she knows the answer, she put the firm needs first, her sort of work family, and the crisis surrounding it, had taken over her life when Mike got caught. 

She had always put her loves one needs before her own, first her family's, then Harvey's, the firm's... But she had never let anyone she cared about down, like she feels she did now. 

 

 

Roger was a sweet man, someone that always had a cup of tea ready for her to warm her throat before a performance, and words of encouragement. He was a father figure outside her work life. A sweet old gentleman that did everything to keep the little theater in the middle of The Village, alive. It didn't matter how much money they offered him to demolish the thing and probably make a tall apartment condominium like the ones around it. It was a piece of NYC history he used to say. A piece of culture to watch affordable but quality plays, made by people that loved the art. It was her safe place.

Roger died, and she didn't say goodbye, and the building is going to be demolished.

 

 

 

 

 

She's chosen to believe that everything she has done is because it's what needed to be done. She won't sit wallowing like some passing afternoon, like the endless days that go away. She's chosen where to be, sometimes misplaced energy, but as she types on her computer, clinging to her desk, things that Harvey needs to be done, she alternates it with mails and messages to people she knows. Looking for a solution to save the building where she felt alive outside the boundaries of Pearson Specter Litt's.

 

 

The silver lining comes up sooner rather than later, the taxes owed aren't as much as she supposed, the problem is the lack of a will, and the mortgage on the building. Roger knew his way around theater but obviously not around business management. That week, her lunch breaks are spent researching property law and plans to make a campaign to save it. No condominium will tower over the street where stories were played and entertainment was always present. The owners of the bar across the street can help her with the taxes. The group of actors can do a play for a season and the earnings can go to pay up the mortgage, she can put in a bit of her savings, and some sort of low profile gala for opening night could do the rest. Once everything is done, the theater can go on and become some sort of cultural center. 

Her head falls on the desk, and she sighs. She's good with plans, and goals, and finding solutions, but she's not good with numbers. She really doesn't know, as positive as she is, if it will be enough. 

As she is gathering a deep breath, completely alone for the third afternoon in a row because Harvey is wandering around the city, trying to fix the problems the firm has, Louis shows up out of nowhere. (Or maybe she's tired and losing focus) And he studies her for a moment. 

"You need me"

She looks at him puzzled. 

"Something is going on Donna, and you need me"

She narrows her eyes. 

"Ok, Jack called, he told me what you're doing for the theater, and I'm in"

"You're in for what?"

"I'm not playing again, it was a one time thing, but you need someone good with numbers...and law..." as he points at himself playing dumb, she has never been more grateful for her peculiar friendship with Louis. 

 

 

 

 

Another day Harvey isn't there and she takes advantage to talk to her people. She won't sit around and wait so she's scheduling a cleaning party. Her cubicle is silent when Louis surprises her with a giant smile and papers on his hand. 

"What's this?"

"Our contract with the bank, I bought us some time and if we planned it out correctly..."

"This is the mortgage?!" she asks baffled

"Yes Donna but we can..." She interrupts him shaking her head

"Louis this is impossible..."

Louis takes out the paper out of her hands, and grabs the cubicle edge leaning in. "Donna nothing you set yourself to do is impossible, I believe in you, the company believes in you, if we work together we can at least try, you taught me that"

"You can't win if you don't at least try"

He nods, biting his lips and she's touched, but he's right. She can do this. She has help, she has a plan, and after all she's Donna. She quit on her dreams once because of the fear of failing, she won't again.

 

 

 

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

 

 

Spring passes by with Saturday's spent inside the old building, grateful that most of the actors have day to day jobs and everyone helps with their area of expertise. It's true team work, and the theater it's ready for the opening night. Louis and Tara are there, helping her with decorations while Rachel sent out the invitations for the post play party for the place's benefit. 

Everyone leaves and she's left alone, looking at what they have achieved. When she turns off the lights and decides to walk home, she dances with her own shadow while she breathes in the perfume of blooming trees. She walks with a steady rhythm, basking in the promises summer brings, she let's the wind blow her hair, somehow she's letting go of the monsters that haunted her for a while, she stopped thinking about what if's and started working with what she got. After a long time she feels confident, but not the mask one she uses everyday to conquer her work life, but genuine security and a bubbling feeling of contentment. 

 

 

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

 

The night before the theater re opens she's stuck in the office finishing things for Harvey, way past her theoretical work hours. He's sitting on his desk swamped with papers, biting his pen. A glass of scotch forgotten. 

"I'm going home Harvey, you should do the same" she says softly. He shakes his head bitterly.

"I can't allow myself those treats" he answers bitterly not looking at her.

"Excuse me?"

"Nothing Donna, go home, have fun on your date or whatever you're going to do, or have been doing for the past couple of weeks"

She closes and opens her mouth again but he talks before she gets the chance to answer. "Have you filed those folders I gave you this afternoon?"

She closes her eyes and her hands turns into fists while her arms hang loose beside her body "I'm going to ask this once, What's your problem?"

Now it was his turn to sound baffled "Excuse me?!"

"You're treating me like I'm not doing my job, or like I'm your enemy, like I haven't been by your side years and years of work together. You're talking to me like you don't know me at all" He opens his mouth to speak and she puts a hand in front of him, making him keep quiet "I have things going on in my life besides this office, do you know any of them? no, of course not. Because god forbid something revolves around something else than your problems. So I'm sorry Mr Specter, I have finished my work day a couple hours ago, and I've finished everything you've asked for, I'm going home. And whatever I'm doing in my free time is not your business. Good night"

She turns around as he calls her, for a moment she stands stills before breathing in and walking away. "Do-nna" 

She becomes a silhouette in the middle of the light and shadows prompted by the night against the firm's walls before he speaks again. "I'm sorry Donna" Even if he's not sure what he's sorry for, completely unaware of what he has become. As unsure as he is if she'll be back tomorrow, the discussion and underlying subtext too similar to the one the night she left. 

He throws away the pen at the empty spot in the wall his mother's painting left as he replays her words in his head.

 

 

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

 

 

 

She doesn't go back the day after, sending a note she's taking a day off. She sleeps in and goes to have breakfast in her favorite cafe before walking to the theater to check on things. She doesn't answer her phone when he calls, instead of getting lost in questions without answers, she finds herself amidst New York City, in between mismatched buildings in this side of town, and love for the things she feels passionate about. She finds herself in the noise and challenge, away from the place she spent the last 13 years of her life, even if there are still voids to fill. She's sure she's chosen to be where she is.

 

 

 

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> This story is for my sweet faux unicorn daughter Mae, Happy birthday sweetie!!!! ♥  
> Also credit to Lamia that is my beta reader, enabler and helps with ideas when the muse goes away. (And S & A that helped too when I was researching the whole law thing)


End file.
